


Night, Tony

by avienexjel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:10:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7032439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avienexjel/pseuds/avienexjel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is drunk.  Clint Barton is a night owl.<br/>Clint hears things that he wasn't supposed to hear.<br/>But maybe it's for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night, Tony

The only thing about Clint that tells people that he _isn’t_ exactly like a bird—or, well, a hawk—is the fact that he’s more of a night owl.  Pun intended.  In the hours in the morning before dawn, when it’s pitch black, he curls up in the vents and just...thinks.  Or he strolls down to the kitchen in the Avengers Tower and helps himself to a bag of chocolate-covered nuts.  In this case, the latter is more frequent. 

Today is no different.  It’s exactly midnight, and the tower is silent.  Even with his hearing aids turned up all the way, Clint hears nothing that hints at someone else being awake, too.  Or at least, awake on the same floor as him.  He pads down the hallway on light feet, socks making a _shh_ sound against the floor.  And that’s when he hears it.  There’s a noise like something smashing on the ground and a quick, choked noise, like someone is stifling a sob. 

Clint doesn’t want to scare the person—whomever it is.  So he rounds the corner quietly, careful to stay silent.  It’s extremely unlikely that it’s a burglar, because Stark’s AI, JARVIS, would have warned them by now.  (And who tries to rob the _Avengers,_ anyway?)  _Maybe it’s Thor,_ he thinks.  The blonde god is a usually jolly person, but prone to a) dropping things, and b) perhaps he’s homesick for his alien planet, Asgard.  Who knows.  It could also be Bruce in a fit or something, but Clint doubts it.  And as for Natasha, she’d never cry so openly, nor be clumsy enough to make noise at twelve am in the morning.

Steve, then?  Maybe he’s mourning everyone who’s died in his life since he was trapped in the ice for so long.  But it’s been a year since Loki invaded Earth.  Clint would’ve thought that Steve was a tough enough guy to fight through this.  But even a supersoldier needs to let it all out sometimes, right?

Okay.  It’s probably Thor, or Steve.  One of the blondes.  Okay.  Clint can handle a completely wrecked supersoldier or god.  (He thinks.  It may just be his ego talking.)

But when he turns the corner, the person he sees is not all whom he was expecting.  _“Stark?”_

The billionaire turns, wobbles a little.  His face is red—obviously drunk.  Even though the bloodshot eyes could just be chalked up to crying, since there are tears streaked across the man’s face.  “Barton?” he slurs, grinning at Clint.  The smile looks strained, too forced to be real.  “Wha’ you doin’ here?  Come t’ join the party?”

“Stark, what are you doing?”  Clint sighs.  “It’s midnight.”

“Ah, fuck, really?  Thought it’d be one am or s’thing.  Y’know.  You’ve never gotten shitfaced drunk in your life?  Cause if you haven’t, y’ should.  Iss fun.  Makes ya forget the things you don’ want t’ remember.”

The archer doesn’t know what to say, so he just moves hesitantly closer.  “Stark, I think you should get to bed now.”

Tony stumbles back, fear flashing in his eyes for a second.  He hisses as his bare foot accidentally lands on a shard of glass on the floor.  Clint’s forgotten about the smashed object he’d heard crashing to the floor earlier, and now he glances down to see that it’s a beer bottle.  The leftover alcohol that Tony hasn’t consumed pools on the floor, a dark brown like dried blood.

“Whoa, hey, man, you aren’t my favorite person ever, but I don’t want you hurting yourself, okay?” Clint blurts, before wanting to throw himself out a window.  _Stupid mouth.  The guy’s already crying, don’t make him feel even worse._

“I know you don’ care,” Tony says softly.  Chocolate brown eyes flick blearily up to Clint’s face.  “Ev’ryone hates me.  Jus’ like Dad.  Howard never spoke t’ me, an’ when he actually bothered to, it was just t’ tell me how stupid I was, how useless.  How I’d never be like fucking _Cap’n ‘Merica._ Sometimes he’d slap me, but other times he’d slug me when he was drunk.”  The billionaire giggles.  “Like me.  ‘M drunk too.  ‘M jus’ as bad as him.  I’d go t’ school an’ the teacher never bothered t’ ask why I had so many bruises on my face.  Rhodey was the first one to care ‘bout me, but he’s got better things t’ do now.  He’s off fighting wars for ‘Merica.  He doesn’ need me anymore.”

Clint swallows at the sudden onslaught of information.  He feels suddenly guilty, since he knows if Stark wasn’t so drunk he’d have never told Clint any of this stuff.  “You should get to bed,” he says again, softer now.  “Come on, Tony.”  Then he pauses, and says, “And...Howard was a shitty guy.  I hope you understand that.  He may have been smart and wealthy, but he was a shit father.  You didn’t deserve what he did to you.  He didn’t deserve to have _you_ as a son, because if he did, he would know to appreciate how great you were before.  And if he were alive now, he’d see what a wonderful person you’ve become.”

“You’re a great guy, y’know that?” Tony blurts all of a sudden as he leans against the archer.  “You think you’re a bad person, that you deserved it with your brother leaving an’ stuff, but you didn’.  You made up for it.  You, you’re a good guy, Clint.”

Clint sucks in a breath.  “Thanks,” he mumbles quietly, then takes Tony gently by the elbow and steers him to the elevator.

Once in Tony’s room, the engineer immediately curls up on his bed and closes his eyes.  Clint figures he’s asleep, and turns to go when he hears a soft voice.  “Stay.”  He nods in the dark, looking over at the small dark figure tucked beneath the blankets, and shuffles over to the chair by the engineer’s bed.

“Thank you,” says the voice quietly again.  Still slurred, but this time it feels like Tony’s chipping a small piece of his heart off and handing it to Clint.  “G’night.”

“Night, Tony.”


End file.
